


the thin line

by CrystalDen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, But it's really not about the politics, Come Marking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Enemy Fuckers to Lovers, Enemy Lovers, F/M, Face-Sitting, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Hotel Sex, If you think it's funny that two people like to one up each other constantly, Light Angst, Masturbation, POV Alternating, POV Ben Solo, POV Rey (Star Wars), Sexual Fantasy, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, We don't fight with sabers we fight with words, and sex, seriously they hate each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29737092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalDen/pseuds/CrystalDen
Summary: Rey Niima and Ben Solo are on opposing teams.And they hate each other.Sort of.***“Leia Organa’s little prize, all filthy and dirty beneath me with my come,” he says, whispering.She swallows.He knows she can deny it, but she likes what they do. What he says.They’ve figured out how to egg each other on at this point. They learn new buttons to push all of the time.She looks down and then back up, her mouth curling. Her bottom lip hiding underneath the top row of her teeth.“I’ll be sure to remember you like to think about Mommy while you’re fucking me.”
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 94
Kudos: 217





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags, please. All sparring, verbal and sexual is consensual.
> 
> Thank you [@reylo_addict](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reylo_addict) for letting me scream at her randomly about all of the things! She is generous and lovely. ❤️

“You like that,” he asks, the slap of skin on skin echoing off of the walls. “You like bouncing that pussy on my hard cock?”

She pants on top of him, keeping the pace he’s set.

“For fuck’s sake, pipe down with that shit.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says, breathing the words into her neck.

She grips his hair and yanks his head back, letting his eyes widen and flicker back and forth over her face.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” she says through gritted teeth.

“Oh, come on, Rey. I know you like it.”

She moves to slap him, and he stops her, forcing her arm behind her back as he pumps up into her soaked core. He slows enough to push her off and flips her over on her stomach. She scrambles, moving up the length of the bed away from him, clawing into the sheets when he pulls her towards the edge by her ankles.

She kicks her legs back, not caring if she injures anything delicate.

“Fuck, I love it when you act feisty,” he laughs, squeezing her calves in a warning.

Ben grabs her waist, pulling her up on all fours.

“Who’s acting,” she says, reaching for his cock. “Ben, fuck, just hurry,” she says, whining in a way that pleases him more than he cares to admit.

He squeezes her ass and gives her a quick pat before sinking back into the wet, warmth of her pussy.

They both groan, the guttural sound leaving her mouth and filling the room.

“Oh, Rey,” he moans, sliding her back and forth along his cock, “You feel s-so good. Just wanna keep filling this pussy, make you come so hard. Wanna feel it. Wanna feel you.”

“Ben, stop talking,” she yells back at him.

He pounds into her, brutally, until she’s left squeaking and yelping underneath him.

He nears his release and leans forward reaching down to tease her clit.

“Can I...can I come inside,” he asks.

He thrusts hard before she can answer.

“Ugh,” she grunts, “fine.”

He thrusts, sloppy, until he nearly loses the pace she’s desperately writhing for.

“Fuck, Ben, please,” she says, stretching the last word out until he’s hanging there, waiting for the final consonant.

She’s so close, and it’s an exceptional part of the game. A moment suspended for him where she nearly forgets who, where, and why.

“Say it, Rey.”

She pulls her mouth tight.

“Come on, say it,” he pleads.

She’s grunting and huffing, desperate to sound frustrated, fingers digging into the mattress and her hips lifting for more.

He’s circling her clit, but he slows each push, threatening to drag it all away.

She whimpers, and he smiles, waiting.

He knows how to tease her. He has her memorized by now.

“Come inside me, Ben, please. Fill me with your come.”

He grips her tight, digging his fingers and letting her wince and beg a little _please_.

Ben holds back until he feels her clench around him, that long moan escaping her lips.

He holds her upright with his chest to her back, rocking until his hips ache with the force of each thrust.

Pulling out of her and pushing her forward onto the mattress, he strokes himself and hovers above her until he’s coming on her back, letting it spray and drip.

“Motherfucker,” she says, pulling herself away and sinking down on her forearms. She’s crawling off of the bed, stomping to the bathroom and returning with a towel in hand.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, I thought you wanted to come inside me,” she says, one hand on her hip, wiping away his seed from her lower back with the other.

He moves away from the bed, his palms held high in mock surrender. He leans forward, stretching one hand in her direction for the towel.

Rey steps close enough to hand it to him and then throws it in his face, come side up.

She shuts the bathroom door, and he hears the squeak of the hotel shower turn on. Ben considers cleaning himself before laying back on the bed, but thinks better of it, draping his legs wide. 

He passes his hands over the quilted comforter, feeling around the bed for the remote control and flipping through a few channels before landing on a local news station.

The sheer drapes drift away from the window as the hotel AC cuts on, flooding the room with cold, boxed air.

He reaches over and shuts it off, the unit winding down to a halt a few seconds after he turns the switch. The water stops, and he listens for the pad of her feet on the thin bath mat.

“When’s the rest of your team getting here,” she asks, exiting the bathroom wrapped in a thin towel.

She collects her things as she hurries to get dressed, this part always a blur.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says, smirking. She looks up, seeing his naked body splayed out on the bed. 

“Not really,” she says, casting her eyes away and pulling her skirt up over a pair of lace thongs that he knows she wore for the occasion.

“Sure,” he laughs, throwing his arms over the pillows, resting like a petulant ruler against the headboard. Rey looks back at him, standing there topless, her nipples hardened by the cold air.

He has half a mind to pull her to him and fuck her all over again, but that’s not their game.

“How’s your Mommy doing,” he asks.

“ _Your_ Mom is fine. Slaying the competition as always.”

He looks down and picks a piece of fuzz off of the comforter, rubbing it through his fingers and dropping it from the bed.

“Yes, I’m sure she has quite a firm hand on things,” he says, his mouth in a tight line.

She's scrolling through her phone, no doubt taking in multiple messages, data, and polls that she’ll need to feed to the rest of the little mice working for their leader.

“How is her protégé,” he asks, feigning indifference, “Beau?”

She rolls her eyes.

“Poe’s doing well, as you already know, or you wouldn’t be asking me about your childhood friend,” she says, typing furiously on her phone. He watches her beautiful tits disappear behind the buttons of her blouse as she pulls herself back together, likely making her way to one more strategy meeting before heading to her next stop.

“I like you heading out to do your job still smelling like my come.”

She looks up and stares.

“So you _did_ do that on purpose,” she says, each consonant popping and snapping with the thick disdain in her tone.

He smiles and tilts his head innocently.

She stares with her eyes flashing, ready to light into him, but she shakes her head thinking better of it. He’ll let her take it out on him later. They always come up with a solution.

He stands up and walks toward her, stopping to lean down close to her face.

He grabs her hips, turning her to face him. She looks up, her expression practiced from showing anything beyond thin interest.

“Leia Organa’s little prize, all filthy and dirty beneath me with my come,” he says, whispering.

She swallows.

He knows she can deny it, but she likes what they do. What he says.

They’ve figured out how to egg each other on at this point. They learn new buttons to push all of the time.

She looks down and then back up, her mouth curling. Her bottom lip hides underneath the top row of her teeth.

“I’ll be sure to remember you like to think about Mommy while you’re fucking me.”

His face drops, and he can only see her bright smile.

Rey backs away, grabbing her bag and slipping her phone in the side pocket.

“See you next time, Solo.”

She never calls him Ben outside of sex.

The heavy hotel door slams as he walks to the bathroom to shower, avoiding standing there and watching her go.

He never tries to stop her from leaving.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Immense gratitude goes to [@reylo_addict](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reylo_addict) an asset to the fandom, to me, and all humankind ❤️

  
  
“Well, I can assure you that the Senator is definitely interested in meeting with you in regards to the Wolf Highway Preservation,” Rey says, a nod of her head to Rose. She presses the phone between her ear and shoulder, pointing to a stack of papers on her makeshift desk in the lobby of the Marriott. “I’ll have to set up a meeting, but you’re aware that her campaign schedule is very tight right now, so you’ll be meeting with Ms. Tico first.”

Rose glares, her mouth full of bagel. Rey takes a sip of coffee and playfully looks away.

Rey ends the conversation with the appropriate pleasantries and places her phone on the table.

“Are they still after Leia,” Rose asks, her eyes on the local newspaper.

Rey chuckles, “Well, they’re not interested in talking to me.”

“I think Poe will have you vetting them in no time,” Rose says, her voice devoid of any humor.

Rey scowls a bit at that. The idea still makes her uneasy. She’s been told time and time again that there’s no way around it. She crosses her legs, catching the shine of her new heels out of the corner of her eye. She shifts in her seat, looking down at her latest purchase. 

“Ugh, no thanks,” she groans, taking a sip of her coffee.

“If you're looking to be in the room and help move some pieces around the board, you have to know how to listen, how to play nice. How to know when to shove,” Rose says, flipping to something that looks suspiciously like the entertainment section.

Rey has heard this argument before, but actually being firmly entrenched within the campaign, she’s not sure what she expected. At times she wonders if maybe her dreams of joining Leia’s service is just that. A dream. Of course she expected to be available at events, helping to spread the message, and as a new recruit even serving as a gopher of sorts for whatever Poe needs, but she seriously misjudged the rest.

She stares at her shoes, then the pencil skirt. She feels like a prize mare, maybe one of those poodles from the dog shows. Who knew revolutions were won in heels and a new wardrobe from Ann Taylor LOFT.

She sighs, flipping through the stack of data. She’s encouraged by the numbers. They can certainly gain in some areas, but they’re steadily climbing.

Leia’s not a tough sell in terms of experience and popularity, but she has room to grow, particularly with women over thirty. Why a strong, capable, experienced woman is a difficult pill to swallow for another woman always baffles Rey, but it’s a reality that they came into with this fight. This is a slow climb and hopefully, Leia can stay in it long enough to give them a chance to show the country all of the great qualities that she possesses.

Her son going to work for a potential opponent on the conservative end had been a near crushing blow, but Leia had handled the news publicly better than her own team, releasing a statement in support of her son and his career. Even congratulating her opponent on his excellent choice.

_ “I may be disappointed to be losing a great political mind and extra time with my son, but I am grateful that he is exercising his right to support, to vote, and…” _

The speech had made Rey a bit ill, knowing that it rang a little hollow. It had crushed Leia for Ben to go and work for Governor Snoke, at least that was the impression that she had received from the team when she had come on board. 

“How do they always seem to know where we’re staying,” Rose says.

Rey stills, feeling her stomach turn, because she knows exactly who Rose is referring to.

“Establishments like these still let you types in,” Ben asks, his phone in hand and a leather bag slung over his shoulder. Every time she sees him, she hates how she assesses the items in his hands, the way normal-sized objects become a miniature mockery of themselves in his presence. He’s addressing the group, but she always feels his eyes, the way he leans to her in any conversation.

She rolls her eyes and looks back to Rose.

“What type would that be? Someone other than pasty, white men in suits,” she asks, a satisfied smile at Rose as she focuses on the items in front of her.

Ben walks to the table while Rose quickly shuffles away their paperwork to make her way out. His shoes click on the tile, and Rey sips her coffee, hoping the warm liquid will soothe and calm the reaction that is now deep within her bones every time she sees him. Their arrangement is getting out of hand if she can’t be this close without clenching. He seems to realize it too with the way his pinned smile becomes smug by the time he arrives at the table. 

“Ms. Tico,” he says with a nod and eyes shifting to Rey.

“Ben,” she responds curtly, looking at Rey, who shakes her head and winks, letting Rose escape to her meeting.

He throws his things down, making himself comfortable and sliding one foot forward, letting it graze the pointed toe of her shoe. She fights the urge to shoot him a warning with wide eyes.

It’s not like they have a handbook for any of this.

But,  _ that’s _ definitely out of line.

Anything resembling...anything. Camaraderie, friendly banter. Anything other than a professional disdain is completely unacceptable. Professional, because obviously, they each have a horse in this year's long race. There are interviews, various appearances, and someone always watching. They are representing themselves, their candidate. 

And the disdain. 

That’s obvious.

At least what she presents to the world.

He’s the disconnected son of her boss, idol, and mentor. He cast himself out of the senator’s circle, so it would be particularly harmful to Leia, the campaign, and her friends. The image could suffer.

So, no one can know that sometimes she looks for him, checking on their arrival through one of the interns. No one can know that she already knows what it feels like for him to kiss her and fuck her senseless, or even the fact that they’ve fucked in the shower of this very hotel. 

Room 123.

She remembers it because of the easy sequence of numbers.

It’s what she tells herself.

“Well, hello there, little Rey,” he says, pulling his phone from his jacket and swiping away. His eyes dart up long enough to catch her reaction and then quickly look away, scanning multiple messages on the screen.

He’s an absolute asshole.

“Ms. Niima will do,” she says. His eyebrows lift, a thought passing quickly, and she knows that he’s filing those words away for later.

Asshole.

“Whatcha got there, Leia 2.0,” he says, lifting his chin for a glance at her work.

“No one uses that phrase anymore, but that’s not shocking coming from someone pushing outdated ideas,” she says with a smile and prim sip of coffee.

He leans forward, darting his tongue out to lick his lip.

“Whatever it is, it’s already behind. Another poll should be out in about an hour, but I’m sure Dameron still likes to fly his own ideas around. Such a reckless rebellion leader,” he says. He’s forcing a light air of humor to the tone, but he’s never able to hide the thinly veiled frustration he holds for Leia’s faith in Poe Dameron. “I’m sure he has something up his sleeves, even if it means everyone else will crash and burn.”

There it is.

“Don’t you get tired of revealing how painfully inadequate you are by mocking Poe,” she asks.

He places the small envelope on the table, a pair of hotel room keys tucked inside. He stretches his arm to the next table, reaching for an abandoned copy of the paper, flipping through and folding it until he reaches the page with the comic strips.

Rey scoffs, regretting the sound as it escapes her lips.

She’s folding her arms, taking stock of the way she pouts and frowns in front of him, confusion flooding her at the thought that some of it feels like a show.

Ben’s fingers are curling around  _ her _ cup of coffee as he lifts it to his lips and takes a sip.

“I don’t know,” he says, sipping and scanning the page, “I don’t think you’ve ever found me to be inadequate.”

She feels herself nearly lurch forward to stop those words, but holds herself together. It’s a carefully measured dance between them, taking turns and steps, always one assuming the lead from the other. Unconcerned who takes a foot to tender toes as long as no one knows that they’re always moving in the same direction.

She takes a breath, watching him sip her coffee and wear a pleased grin on his face. There are moments when they’re in the thick of words and preciously guarded venom that she wonders why they continue or what special power this bastard can actually hold.

She’s staring. 

She knows she’s staring, but she can’t help the feeling rising in her as he removes a single key card from the envelope, flipping it between large fingers. Fingers that spark and fill and dig and curl to please her. He wears smug unbearably well, and she hates the conquering champion seated across from her at the little table in this hotel lobby.

The frustration rises a bit and Rey leans forward, gathering and stacking her tablet and phone to shove in her bag. 

If she’s quick, he’ll miss an opportunity to slip his room key in her hand, and she loves seeing the puppy dog expression that he tries to hide when he thinks that he’s going to miss out.

She nearly stumbles in the effort of making a cool exit. Standing with her bag slung over her shoulder, she smoothes the waist and line of her skirt, drawing attention to her body.

“Nice talk, Solo.”

She saunters off with his eyes on her, deciding not to linger, not even for a glance.

The elevator is in view, the doors are opening, and she delights in the little things that occasionally go her way.

As the doors begin to shut, she smiles thinking of the next time she’ll see him. How hard he’ll ram into her, punishing her for leaving him hanging.

She waits, imagining the large hand reaching through the crack to open up and let him shove his way in, but the thud of the successfully closing door disappoints her far more than she would like.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_ It’s stale. _

_ The smell of the beer is fresh, but the regret, the sadness. _

_ It’s fucking stale and obnoxious.  _

_ It’s been weeks, the ultimate position out of her reach, and nothing from the mountains of applications, phone calls, and recommendations she’d acquired. So much for the tight net of works she had built in her years of school. That internship was definitely a bust as well. All of that experience they paid her amounted to nothing. A nearly penniless scavenger, moving about the new city with ramen noodles stashed in her bag for meals, snacks, and reminding her of how close she was to getting a coffee shop gig. _

_ It’s entirely possible that she shouldn’t be thinking about the money spent on that tequila shot and the beers, but at least on an empty stomach it certainly goes much farther.  _

_ “Usual, Mazzy.” _

_ The remaining foam resting on top of the dark liquid ripples with her sharp exhale at the sound of his voice. _

_ Rey leans back, pushing with her hands against the old, polished bar top and glancing back in the direction of the quickly approaching patron. _

_ He’s as tall and wide as she remembers. His hair falls in loose, dark waves, resting against his cheeks when he takes a large, meaty paw and drags it through like a comb. Free from tousling his hair, his hand returns to the comfortable spot cradling his chin and stroking his bottom lip with his index finger. Rey contemplates the back and forth motion of those fingers, wondering how it’s even possible for him to be standing so close.  _

_ His face has the same odd, long features, but they’ve lost the dark and sharp edges since the last time she saw him. Lighter. Unburdened by the fact that he completely dismissed her, crushing her goals, stepping on every sacrifice she had made in order to be an unimaginable douchebag. _

_ The bar stool squeaks, and she notices the jello feeling in her knees as she slides down slowly, letting her shoes hit the floor before she walks forward. _

_ He sees her before she reaches him, studying her above the grip of his phone. Rey allows her steps to slow, waiting for the recognition to dawn in his face or common courtesy to reign in this moment. _

_ “Miss…,” he asks, furrowing his brow. _

_ “Niima,” she says. _

_ He nods, keeping his phone in place and his attention diverted. _

_ Standing before him, Rey is suddenly unsure of what she wants to say or why she’s even bothered to remove herself from the comfortable hovel of despair that she’s built at her spot at the bar. She can blame the liquid courage, or maybe the fact that in this moment she feels like she has absolutely nothing to lose by telling this jackass how truly awful he behaved. _

_ “How’s the job search going?” _

_ “Terrible. The only job I really wanted had an asshole at the gate,” she says, narrowing her eyes and letting her nostrils flare in a way that she sometimes worries is unbecoming. _

_ He makes a show, a quick glance around and gestures to himself, “You wouldn't mean this asshole, would you?” _

_ “You were incredibly rude in our interview. I can’t believe that Leia Organa even has someone like you on her staff.” _

_ He laughs and raises his eyebrows, “Neither can I.” _

_ “Do you treat everyone that way? Or just women?” _

_ “Hey,” he says, visibly bristling at the implication, “Not hiring you had nothing to do with you being a woman. We just had enough sycophants running around. We were all stocked up.” _

_ He pockets his phone and saunters over to the bar to grab his cocktail from the bartender. He mutters his thanks and takes a seat, dropping a large leather satchel by the stool. Rey climbs, gracelessly, onto the stool next to him. _

_ “I’m not a sycophant. I’ve admired Leia Organa and her work with the Rebellion for as long as I can remember.” _

_ “Believe me, I remember your speech from the interview. No need to rehash.” _

_ She grips the edge of the bar top, holding back that response that makes her want to punch him or cry. How fucking dare he dismiss her. _

_ “You know nothing about me. You wouldn’t even let me talk about my experience and what inspired me,” she says, her eyes focused, her mind drifting through a thick wall of honey to remember his sour expression as she talked about her admiration for the cause. _

_ “Well, that’s part of the problem, isn’t it? You never got there.” He takes a quick gulp of his drink, pulling his phone back out from his pocket, creating a barrier all over again. _

_ Asshole. _

_ Dismissive asshole. _

_ He places the phone face down on the bar top and sucks in a breath, “You spent so much time telling me information that most of the world can glean from a quick google search and hardly anything about you. I had to read your entire résumé to get what I actually needed.” _

_ He sips again, and Rey can’t tell if the second beer is lulling her into this hum of existence or if she’s allowing herself to take in his words. _

_ He flips his phone up at a buzz and then places it back down. _

_ “Those things are supposed to be a reference during the process,” he says, motioning to the woman, Mazzy, for another drink. _

_ Rey can feel him stare at her, a long look before he sighs and set his glass down with a bright thud. _

_ “Let me guess. You found out that they frequent this bar, came a few times hoping to catch someone. Maybe find a way in,” he asks. _

_ Rey purses her lips and slowly nods. _

_ “See. You’re smart and resourceful. And despite your bad attitude, you knew not to be completely down after I told you to fuck off.” _

_ Rey sifts through his words, seeing a compliment stuffed in the back corner somewhere. _

_ “So, what am I supposed to do with that information,” she asks. _

_ He glances at her outfit, “For starters, get some new clothes.” _

_ She feels her stomach turn, the buried anger and frustration of her upbringing haunting this moment and pouring out of her mouth. _

_ “I’m fucking poor. I don’t have the money to have an expensive wardrobe.” _

_ “You think working that job is going to get you one?” _

_ “No, but it’ll put me in good company that won’t necessarily care about what I’m wearing. With other people trying to make a difference.” _

_ “Other people with money,” he supplies, taking a quick drink of what is likely an expensive liquor. _

_ “You wouldn’t know what it’s like. You look like you were born with everything handed to you. You know nothing else. You’re just some rich asshole.” _

_ “And you’re dying to work for a rich asshole. Don’t forget that. She may come off as a woman of the people, down in the trenches holding hands with little old ladies that need medication and walking in her very expensive shoes to march for civil rights, but she’s still a filthy rich asshole.” He pauses emptying the last drops from his second drink. “She just happens to have empathy, which is something that not all rich assholes possess.” _

_ Rey swallows, letting his words sink in. It’s something that she doesn’t bother to consider much when she thinks of the dream of the revolutionary Rey making a difference. _

_ He’s looking at her, smug, the corners and sharp angles beginning to fade and smudge further under the liquid. _

_ She scowls, prickling at even giving his words a moment of consideration as he rises from his seat. _

_ His glass settles on the bar top, and she waits for him to walk away. _

_ She hears the pat of his large palm, and he’s sliding a large bill to the bartender. _

_ “A water for this one, and go ahead and call her a cab. Give her the change.” _

_ She’s watching the interaction like a movie, nearly swaying from the stool to gather all of the facts. _

_ He turns to her, his expression amused, “A ride. On me.” _

_ “Fuck you.” _

_ He chuckles under his breath and nods, “Hm, feisty.” His gaze turns predatory for a moment before he raises his eyebrows and grabs his bag to go. “Good luck. Maybe in your next interview you won’t try to sucker some asshole into hiring you with your tiny tits.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “Find a good, polished outfit. Something that fits. Let your education and some of those sanctimonious ideals speak for themself. Heck, try the old campaign. They’re still hiring.” _

_ “Wait. You think I was trying to seduce you for the job,” she asks, the wave of that insult nearly throwing her off of the stool and into a heap onto the floor. _

_ He smiles and leans toward her with his hip cocked slightly and one hand on the bar, “You're naive and young. It’s fine. Someone probably told you it was the way to get ahead if all else failed.” _

_ “Fuck you, if I wanted to sleep with you, you’d know it. Those words would come from my mouth, and I sure as hell wouldn’t bring that shit into a life-changing interview. I was counting on that job,” she says, sighing. “It was my dream.” _

_ “Hey, you can still have the dream,” he says, an almost reassuring tone. “They’re still hiring.” _

_ “Who gives a shit if I have to interview with you!” _

_ “You’re in luck, tiny buds. I no longer work for the campaign. Go home, sober up, and try again.” _

_ She looks, stunned, attempting to soak up the words. Everything is foggy and not entirely from the alcohol. Losing that opportunity had devastated Rey more than she could have imagined. Feeling it slip away, only for it to be offered back to her by the same person that took it away leaves her feeling dizzy. _

_ She slides from the seat, letting her feet drop as she grabs her purse and sways to the bathroom. _

_ She feels him follow her, his steps heavy and his voice attempting to reach her as she pushes her way through chairs that slide and drag on the floor. _

_ “Hey,” he says, reaching the door ahead of her. “You okay?” _

_ She looks up, begging for focus, “Mmyes. Me and my teeny, tiny tits are fine. Thanks for the tip.” She stumbles, letting him catch her elbow and steady her. She looks up, and it’s a slow crawl until she’s meeting his eyes. _

_ He’s handsome, in a way. _

_ His eyes are pretty, brown, green, or gold. Maybe all of the above. _

_ She’s feeling a weird mix of anger and gratitude. _

_ Or nothing at all. _

_ He chuckles, “Oh, fuck.” He rolls his eyes, looking into her eyes sympathetically, for a moment. His fingers grip her a bit tighter as she leans against the frame of the door. “You’re one of those. You mean it. All of that bullshit you spout.” His eyes narrow, and she shuffles clumsily under his gaze. _

_ She blinks. _

_ “I guess you really weren’t trying to fuck your way in.” _

_ “Again, if I wanted to fuck you, you’d know it.”  _

_ Her breathing is loud, or maybe that’s just how it feels. As if she is panting in preparation for the words that may leave her mouth, or the way her hands are ready to claw at him. _

_ “Don’t look too deeply into this,” she gently pleads. She releases herself from his grip, turning the door handle, and pulling him inside. _

_ He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing slowly as he follows her, dropping his bag inside the entrance. _

_ She reaches under her skirt, eyes on him as she peels her underwear down and leaves them on the floor. _

_ He locks the door behind him. _

_ “I promise you, I have too much self-loathing to fuck someone who actually likes me,” he says. _

_ He follows her as she backs up, reaching for her, kissing her and letting his hands roam from nape to bottom as he pushes her inside the bathroom stall.  _

_ His tongue is in her mouth, warm and soft, forcing her open and bending her to his will. Her limbs are soft and pliable against the cold walls. She catches his hand as he tries to caress her breasts, lifting her skirt and placing it at her core. She rolls her hips into his touch, and he groans, clearly pleased. _

_ “Right here, little rebel,” he asks, slipping his fingers through her folds, humming into her mouth when he finds her wet warmth. She throws her head back, accepting his touch as her due. His payment for the anguish he caused. _

_ She smiles, one little corner of her mouth lifting at the thought, a laugh almost escaping at the sinister idea drifting through her mind. _

_ She lets him swirl his index finger over her clit, her palms against the wall to brace herself as her hips jerk and roll at the pleasure mounting. _

_ He leans forward, pressing close and kissing her ear, her temple, her jawline. _

_ She grabs his hand, positioning his fingers and forcing one inside. _

_ “Ugh,” she groans loudly. _

_ Rey chances a glance at him, and he looks fucking delighted at this turn of events, beginning to thrust. _

_ “More,” she says, letting him pause to push another finger inside. She winces and breathes through the stretch as her body adjusts and welcomes him inside. _

_ “You love how bad this feels, little rebel,” he asks, whispering and panting in her ear. He’s hard. She can feel him pressed up against her thigh. “Such a naughty girl, letting me fingerfuck you in a bathroom.” _

_ She bites her fingers, stifling a sob of pleasure and hiccuping with a press and gesture inside. _

_ “Dirty, dirty girl. Let me fill you up.” _

_ Rey pushes her palms into the wall, imagining herself still gripping the reins, but with each word from his lips, she can feel the painful slip from her hands. _

_ He falls over her, lowering himself to change the angle a bit as he thrusts his hands harder and faster, fucking into her until she’s beginning to whine. His other hand covers her mouth and nose, adding a weightlessness to the swirl of her climax blooming. _

_ Rey cries out suddenly, gripping his bicep as he continues. She groans into his hand, the tension in her body from her orgasm leaving her to slump against him and nearly collapse on the floor. _

_ Collecting herself, her eyes are wide from the realization of what they’ve done, the weight falling and the room returning to normal. She looks up at the ceiling, tin tiles and ornate molding, the old building revealing itself. She takes in a slow breath and sighs out as she studies the workmanship and details. _

_ She glances down, her eyes landing on his cock, hard and just a few moments away from being released from his trousers. Still deep inside of her cunt, he smiles, satisfied. Skewered on fingers, she straightens her stance as much as she can and huffs a quick laugh. _

_ She pats him on the arm, “Thanks. That really took the edge off.” _

_ He stills and she pushes his hand down until she’s free from the intrusion, begging herself not to whimper at the empty feeling or the frustration that his cock won’t be next.  _

_ "Wow, so glad these tiny tits finally got what they wanted." _

_ She yanks her skirt down and shoves it in place, stumbling out of the bathroom stall. Slinging her bag on her shoulder, still panting, she avoids his eyes and yells behind her, "Thanks for the ride." _

_ She walks out the door of the bar, forgetting about the water or the cab. _

_ Submitting her résumé again the next morning, she scrolls through her phone and finds a headline that gives her pause and a picture that makes her heart sink. _

_ “Ben Solo, son of Senator Organa, new strategist for Governor Snoke” _

* * *

The next morning, Rey is up before most of the world, freshly brewed hotel room coffee in hand. The bed is a mess of spreadsheets and research splayed in front of her, and a mildly cozy, polyester duvet tucked under her arms.

It’s difficult being on the road for some people, but Rey finds comfort in that shitty paper cup, small bottles of shampoo, and the thin towels. Every place is different, but they often have that same damp and lonely feel, although those sheets have been abused before by tiny, chocolate finger prints, bodily fluids galore, and perhaps even death. She knows that it’s strange that she enjoys the smell and feel of those sheets or that she actually hums at the first sip of coffee, but it’s a far cry from not knowing where you’ll sleep.

It’s why she never complains about the travel, or going ahead before the group, if it’s necessary. 

Out on the road, she’s still wandering, but she’s no longer lost.

The early, early shows are chatting away and Rey hears a soft rap at the door. 

She huffs, kicking her leg from the covers and shuffles across the floor. She curses the day that she told Rose that she was interested in getting more exercise. 

She’s not really interested in it. 

She’s interested in the idea.    
  


The idea of staying on top of her health. Not eating fast food and drinking and staying up too late. Not hiding under the covers instead of waking herself with a brisk walk with Rose. 

Rey flips the double lock and quickly turns the handle without venturing a glance through the peephole.

“Rey.”

“Fuck.”

“That was the idea,” he says.

Ben stands in the doorway, fresh from a workout, a fresh sheen of sweat across his forehead and making its way through his shirt. He stares at her with an annoyed twist of his mouth and a quick glance to her wardrobe.

“I don’t really like to chase pussy around, Rey,” he says, his voice low.

He pushes past her, walking towards the bathroom.

She catches the handle of the heavy door before it slams and hears the sharp squeak of the shower behind her. She stands away from the doorway with her hands on her hips, creating some semblance of privacy between them. An unnecessary measure, comical at its very core.

“And where are you right now,” she calls over the sound of the water running and his casual adjustment of the nozzle to find a setting that he likes.

“Letting you know that I don’t like to chase my pussy,” he says, tossing his shirt outside of the bathroom door.

“I’m not your pussy,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest to hide the peaked nipples that clearly disagree.

He peeks his head out from the door and releases a small, breathy laugh.

“Not just you,” he says, wiping his forehead and letting the towel drop, “any pussy. Especially you.”

Rey walks to the bed, leaning forward and collecting the stacks of paperwork, tossing them to a chair by the bed.

She regrets the questions forming, but ventures ahead. 

“Any pussy? There’s more pussy?”

He exits the bathroom, a layer of sweat on his naked chest, gym shorts slung low. A peek of that soft stretch of skin at his hip is visible, and she tries not to linger.

“Sometimes,” he says, one corner of his mouth upturned, “Jealous?”

She won’t touch that.

Not at all.

“Solo, I’m not in the mood this morning,” she says, turning from his stupid face and stupid chest to climb back in bed. “I had thirty more minutes of uninterrupted time to myself. I’m certainly not going to waste that on you.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says, watching her move about the room.

He doesn’t bother shutting the door. She hears the slide of the curtain and the thud of his large feet hitting the shower floor.

Fine.

He can shower, and then she can throw him out.

That should fix him.

Rey climbs back in bed, the sheets scratchy against her skin. She folds her arms over her chest again, seething at the familiar way that he lets himself into her life. 

No concerning herself over the implications that he’s doing this same thing with anyone else.

Nope.

She sinks into the pillows, seeking the previous warmth and trying not to get too comfortable. Energy conservation is a necessity when attempting to throw out a snarky giraffe.

She closes her eyes, searching her mind in the hopes of finding a clear path for how this had gotten so out of control.

Folding her arms over her eyes, she’s drowning in the surrounding noise and blocking out any additional light, releasing herself to the swimming guilt and confusion over their arrangement.

She hates it.

Primarily, how much she loves it. How easy it is to agree when he catches her eye at an event, the lobby of a hotel.

Some Mom and Pop establishment, gingham bows on pigs, vanilla and peppermint scents wafting into the bathroom as he fucks her up against a door.

She turns, cringing at the very real thrill. For fuck’s sake, she can still hear the way the lock on the door had jostled every time he pushed inside.

“Ugh,” she sighs, burying herself further from the view of any god who would witness the enigma of this push and pull they’ve made.

She hears a light groan come from the bathroom.

Her eyes open as she listens, the wash of noise turning back into their respective sounds. 

The hotel air unit, the tiny squeal of pipes, the water.

A groan accompanied by a whisper and a light, rhythmic slap.

Motherfucker.

“Oh yeah.”

She sits up, her body awakened at several points.

“Oh, fuck. Yes, oh yes, Rey.”

She twists the sheets in her fists, waiting with a slow suck of air.

“Such a good girl. Bend over. Yeah.”

Rey throws the comforter back and flies to the bathroom door, ready to rip the curtain back.

“Just like that, Rey. Little rebel. Come on, little rebel,” he says with a stretch of syllables, milking the words for her benefit.

She hates him.

Hates that he’s screwing with her. Hates that he’s here.

“Oh, yeah. I like it. Yes, my dirty girl’s gonna let me fuck all of her holes.”

Hates. Just hates it all.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Ben’s head peaks from behind the curtain, his large form comical inside of the small shower.

He smiles, so clearly pleased with their game. He makes no effort to hide the sweeping gaze, taking in the pajama pants and lingering at her tank top, her nippes betraying her. Again. She pulls back the curtain, a spray of the shower hitting at her hips and stomach.

He’s stroking his cock, heavy and pink. She’s well-trained, her mouth almost watering as she swallows at the thought of him smooth and velvet in her mouth. There’s something helpless about him as he eyes her, looking over her with cock in hand. He can fuck with her all he wants, but she knows how much he wants her to paw at him right back.

Cat and mouse. Mouse and cat.

  
  


They don’t know when to quit, when to leave well enough alone, too easily drawn in by the bait.

She reaches forward, the water hitting her hand, arm, and further up as she touches his cock. She runs her hand down his length, watching his face and shoulders as his breath hitches. 

He reaches for the drawstring tie on her pajama bottoms, the drops of water falling on the fabric, soaking it further.

She pulls away, spitting in her hand and reaching to stroke him. 

“Fuck, Rey. Just like that,” he says with a joyful, syrupy thickness.

His eyes don’t leave her no matter how often his breath stutters.

She strokes him, a steady rhythm.

One hand on his cock, she leans over and turns off the shower with the other.

“If you’re gonna save the environment, you’re going to need to speed that hand up and keep me warm,” he says.

She narrows her eyes, stroking with one hand and caressing and fondling his balls with the other. He’s so close she can almost taste the salt on tongue, and his eyes widen as she licks her lips. She lets her fingers circle and make their way, stroking in a line underneath his sac. Rey watches with joy as his chest shutters in an effort to gain air.

She forges ahead, echoing his words, mocking the tone.

“Such a good boy,” she says, feeling a peculiar power from the feel of his cock twitching in response.

He comes, slapping his hand up to brace himself against the shower wall.

She looks away from his face, watching his seed spill out onto her hand and letting her thumb brush over the sensitive head to nearly bring him to his knees with a shudder.

She steps away, the glow of control and arousal flooding her. 

The bait is always too delicious to resist.

She looks at her wet pajamas and chances a glance at the time on the news channel. He stands, his eyes aglow as he stalks towards her out of the shower, gently toweling himself off.

She stands at the sink, running her hands under the warm water as he approaches her from behind. He leans forward and her skin responds to the familiar heat of him.

His hands take liberties, reaching down the front of her pajama bottoms until his thumb rests at her belly button.

“Not today,” she says, still watching her hand, “You should probably go.”

Ben cages her again, his possessive and hungry nature behind closed doors always revealed when he’s so eager to consume. His hand travels from hip to dipping beneath the hem of her shirt.

“Come on, Rey, please. I haven’t eaten yet,” he says.

She’s collected herself again, watching him in the mirror.

Steadying herself to push him away, she whispers,

“Get the fuck out.”

He frowns, a ridiculous pout that makes her stomach flip and her mind furious. He works his jaw, staring and rolling his lips in as he nods at her. 

Planting a sloppy kiss to her forehead, Ben throws on his gym shorts, carrying the other items over his shoulder as he makes his way out.

The echo of the slamming door fades, and Rey throws herself back under the nest of comforters.

The light is hitting the windows in just the right way, seeping through and begging her to get out of bed and move forward. The coffee is cold. The sheets are miserable, and she’s not sure how she’s going to deal with the fact that he’s slowly ruining everything.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive the occasional The West Wing tv show references. The "Wolf Highway Preservation" is definitely one of them :)
> 
> I'm always incredibly grateful for your kudos and comments! ❤️


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just hope someone encourages you and makes you laugh like [@reylo_addict](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reylo_addict) does for me! You should go read her lovely works, follow her on the bird app, and be grateful for her presence in the fandom ❤️

Rey Niima.

“You’re not good. Stop convincing yourself otherwise. You took all of that privilege, the lessons that your loving parents gave you, and said, ‘I want to go work for the bad guy’.”

She’s naked, sweaty, and dripping with his spend as she pants the words into the space above them. He loves glancing over to find her limbs splayed, her hips stretched wide and unable to move after he’s thoroughly fucked her.

He reaches over, dragging a finger against her slick skin, tracing until he reaches a hip bone. He’s used to this by now. He’s pretty good at playing this role. Hell, he’s been doing it since he was young. It’s easy to be the odd one out when you’ve been the curiosity of your own family for most of your life. 

Now that he’s moved out on his own, he’s the punching bag, especially for her. Rey loves to remind him of things that she can’t possibly understand.

“I don’t know. I think I’m pretty good to you. I don’t make you beg too hard for it. I fuck you hard when you like it. Fast when you want it.”

His finger traces further until it’s touching the tender skin between her thighs, and he smiles as she shivers and cocks her hips. 

Just a touch.

“You’re not good, Ben,” she says, too quickly.

He feels himself smile, shaking his head at the way she bites back.

He turns to his side, pressing himself closer to her, “Oh, it’s  _ Ben _ when we’re not fucking now?”

She huffs, sitting up quickly and now it will be minutes before she’s out of his life for another long stretch.

“You think we’re done,” she asks, pushing at him to rest on his back and swinging her leg to straddle him. 

Her face is lovely and determined. 

Feral, unpolished warrior.

“Not even  _ you _ could berate me enough to get my dick up right now, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Even I need a rest,” he says, protesting and letting his hands cup her backside.

“I don’t need your cock.”

She pushes his hands back and swiftly climbs up the length of him until her hands are gripping the headboard and his head is encased in her thighs.

He can see the pleased grin that she’s holding back from him, hovering above him. He’s gone down on her before today, but this view has a poignancy that shakes him beneath her. He stops himself from gripping the pillow or the sheets, choosing instead to run his hands up and over her body until she’s shivering and gripping the headboard tighter, determined to keep control. 

Sometimes he has to make it easier for her.

“Come on, sweetheart. Show me how it’s done.”

She pulls herself forward and rubs her pussy over his mouth until he can only murmur deep into her cunt.

“Shut up, Ben,” she says, beginning to roll her hips.

He hums his agreement into her warm slick, grabbing her hips to steady her and give him room to lick and suck at her clit. He reaches up, sliding one palm over a breast and the other on her back, dragging his nails down her spine. 

She craves that. 

Curls her back every time to be touched like that, and Ben supplies. 

He darts his tongue as the motion sends her forward, his face now messy and drowning in the wetness of her core and the salt of him left behind inside. She rocks and rocks and rocks over him, searching and seeking something within her sight. He can feel it, see it as she rolls her body to receive it. The back of his tongue begins to ache, but he closes his eyes, wrapped in her, his fingers digging into the globes of her ass. Her movements become jerky and erratic, and his mouth opens wider in a smile. He sucks, harder and faster, matching the motion. 

Rey yells, her body seizing above him until she falls boneless against the headboard. She’s pushing herself back, sliding down his chest and bending forward, her beautiful tits in perfect view as they sway and bounce in front of him. Ben reaches out, steadying her as she lets out a long sigh, something pent up and held now released to the quiet among them. He’s content to watch her with her eyes closed and the little furrow in her brow gone. For once, the little rebel at rest. 

The moment passes too quickly, and Ben can feel the relief wash away with the quick motion of her limbs moving from the bed.

All too fast she’s his mother’s pet again as she pulls her clothes on.

“No shower today,” he asks.

She glances back, pulling on her bra and making him want so badly to pull her back to him and release her tits from the cups. 

The thought makes his cock twitch. 

_ Now. _

“I have a shower in my own room. Sans asshole commentary,” she says.

“That sounds terrible.”

“It sounds like heaven.”

_ No, Rey, heaven is where I take you every time I see you. _

It’s what he thinks as he remembers each face she makes as she comes. Sometimes she looks like she’s in pain, and Ben can’t help but wonder if it’s the part of her that fights against how good he makes it.

He bites his tongue, often, when he’s around Rey. He has to temper that fire they both possess, because she sure as hell can’t manage. God, she really needs someone to teach her that, although finding the right person would be a difficult task. She’s a rare one. While Ben feels like he burns from years of kindling and pitch grown together under the pressures of his family, Rey seems like a fire crackling freely from the very start.

She stretches and moves her arms through her blouse, and she’s slowly building herself back into the perfect little aide to the cause.

The clothes she wears now are sexy, classy, and effortless.

He regrets ever telling her how to become one of them. 

She first walked into his office with an ill-fitting sweater and scuffed shoes, her bright smile making his eye twitch. He wasn’t sure who had offered her any suggestions on her makeup, but it was obvious she wasn’t used to wearing any.

_ “She’s apparently quite the young strategist, great instincts, and very passionate about some of the issues in the campaign.” _

He didn’t want to piss his mother off, but he saw the gleam in her eyes, the excitement when she passed the candidate’s information along. The girl being nervous and maybe ill-prepared was only a small part of her interview ultimately failing.

Rey Niima .

Much of what he ascertained from her was from a brief study of her wardrobe, the movement of her hands, or the flare of her nostrils as he cut her off.

It was like hearing an old propaganda video, the length of every conversation at family dinners, or events eventually dissipating into the same stories over and over again. 

She was a mess, maybe a plant, a joke from one of the other campaign members. Optimistic and sweet, and confusingly, leaning forward and pressing her small breasts together over and over again. No matter that he missed the part where she was twirling her fingers in her hands on her lap or leaning forward to shift herself as she talked.

She couldn’t stop talking about his mother, the family, or even throwing in her small crush on Han Solo.

_ “Believe me, he would disappoint you. He’s a drunk and a bit of a liar.” _

She had stiffened at that, her eyes growing wide. But, she didn’t sink and share the shock that he felt in blurting that out. Her lips had pursed and her nostrils had flared with a bite of anger under the surface. From there she had given him everything he needed to quickly rile her and usher her out of his life.

“What the fuck are you staring at,” she asks as she stands by the bed, fully dressed and hands on her hips.

Scowling at him with his naked body on the bed, and his hard cock jutting up to say hello.

“Maybe I’m so proud that you took my advice,” he says, slipping his hand over the shaft and giving his dick a slow stroke.

She’s rolling her eyes, moving about the room to collect her things. 

“And what was that,” she asks, looking away from the display on the mattress.

Here’s the ugly truth. 

When it comes to Rey, he’s been catching her and jostling things in the right direction at multiple turns. He knows when to quit, when to snap, and when to pet her just the right amount. Ben Solo is great at assessing situations, politically and otherwise.

Too bad he’s terrible at assessing his own needs. 

“Nothing,” he says, feeling the steam hiss and settle in his chest.

“What,” she asks, her chin tilting and the creature now curious.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me,” she asks, posed and ready for a good pounce. 

He strokes himself, leaning back with his arm resting behind his head and stretching his long body out even further.

He lets go, feeling the fight nearly die when he sees her mouth and a small flash of her teeth.

He can’t help the chuckle that escapes, bringing her feet forward. Yanking the pillow out from under his head, she smacks him and leans over him to hold his arms away from defending himself.

_ “Tell me.” _

“Fuck off, Niima,” he says, mocking her flippant tone.

“Tell me, asshole.”

She begins smacking him with the pillow, bracing herself and hanging over him until her newly neat appearance becomes disheveled once more.

He opens one eye and catches the sharp intake of breath and then laughter as she wrestles his hands away from his face.

“Motherfucker, tell me,” she says, her face inches away from his own.

It doesn’t matter that her blouse is open to skin he knows or that she’s so close to straddling him all over again. 

Her face is gold.

And fuck, he thought he liked seeing her worked up, but this is a whole new high for him.

He’s staring again.

He can feel it this time. 

His fingers relax and clench along with his chest rising and falling. Of all of the places he gets to touch and of all the ways he views her, he sees something that makes him covet everything else. The only thing that can pull him away is the way her smile fades and her body bends as she straightens up and moves from the bed.

She’s more hurried than moments ago when she grabs her things and heads to the door.

“It was probably useless information to me anyway,” she says, “See you around, Solo.”

He waits until the lock clicks and drops his head to the pillow. 

The white popcorn ceiling becomes a thing of interest as he lets the space gather in her absence. He’s looking for the five or ten minute mark. At that point there’s no longer an echo of the door, the step of heels, or the ding of the elevator.

Other than a faint scent of her on sheets and skin, he’s alone and he’s free to exist without her.

He can huff or sigh out into the space without comment.

Without another judgement about the way he approaches his ostensibly charmed life.

_ Must be good to be Ben Solo. _

He’s heard that most of his life.

The son of American royalty and revolutionary leaders.

He’s got it made.

He just has to match up, shape up, make up.

Measure up.

He’s so goddamn tired of it.

Leaving the world that he was born into brought a freedom that he couldn’t imagine. 

Ben knew his move to accept Governor Snoke’s offer would tear a rift in the fabric of his family’s carefully built reputation, but he would be paying a larger price to stay. He was never going to grow beyond them if he had continued to chip away in the same fashion.

He admires his mother and her team of hopeless rebels, including his father and uncle. They pushed back against insurmountable odds to help shape incredible change, but Ben’s not willing to build the rest of his life on that spark and a few lucky shots.

The consequences have been small.

He’s used to being viewed as slightly skewed.

His opinions, the questions, the answers he would seek. 

They were all fine pieces to the makeup of Ben Solo. 

_ The Dark Prince of the Skywalker family. _

It’s hard not to feel like the walls were closing in when  _ that  _ title is thrown around in your formative years. So, your family sees you as different, but when the world reaches out in agreement, you tend to take some comfort in the monster that they help to build. The look on your mother’s face, the angry emails and voicemails from your uncle matter less when you feel like the cut of the costume is finally starting to fit.

But, that just becomes another box, another role.

And these days, he’s only interested in one game. 

And it’s with Rey.

Rey Niima.

Her bratty mouth, a beautiful face twisted and contorted against him. 

She hates him. 

Hates the sight of him. 

Thinks he’s a worthless piece of shit. 

So what.

No matter. 

He still knows he’ll get to fuck her later. 

Hold her down, take out his frustration deep in her tight cunt. He relishes letting her pace and dance around him all she wants, and he’ll gladly edge himself to thoughts of her little squeak, that guttural sound that she makes when he pushes inside of her. It’s a moment he anticipates without fail. He stores those memories away, all of the biting words or the way her mouth frowns in a tight line when he’s in her presence. He knows she’s just holding herself together for the moment when all of the words become little pleas and her jaw becomes slack beneath his hands as he impales her over and over.

His cock twitches, and he realizes that he’s already stroking himself, his thumb grazing the head at the thought.

God, she makes him feel like he’s going mad sometimes. 

How can something that angry writhe with so much pleasure for him?

Fucking Rey Niima.

If he’d known what he knows now, he could have hired her that day and had her bent over that desk by the week’s end.

Let her whine into his large palm while he takes a phone call, fuck her until her hips bruised from the slap against that ostentatious desk he used to own.

Let her try and spew her sweet speeches while his tongue lapped at her cunt. Circle and suck at her clit until her words just disappeared.

He places her there. Positions her in every scenario he can imagine. His dick aches, and he feels the slow crawl of his orgasm. 

But every time he comes, whenever he starts to lose himself, his feet are unsteady and slipping on the path.

He sees her eyes.

The little way that they crinkle at the corners.

When she forgets who she is and maybe who she’s with.

It doesn’t matter that each stroke reminds him to picture her bent over with his hand smacking and soothing her ass. He can feel her skin, see the way his fingers fall down until his thumb traces the cleft of her ass and grazes her tight hole.

When he’s close, he wants one thing.

Rey Niima.

Her eyes, her smile, and her damn hair tangled on the sheets.

Rey Niima.

Fuck, she feels so good.

Bent over.

Her pussy, warm and wet.

Or underneath him.

Smiling, laughing over him.

Unguarded.

Undone.

And his hands slip into her hair, and above all else, he hears the thing he seeks from her every time.

_ Say it, Rey. _

_ Say it. _

If he’s good for her, maybe she’ll comply.

And say his name.

_ Ben. _

_ Ben, please. _

_ Ben. _

His toes curl, and his abdomen stretches as his hand is filled with his come.

The air is now stifling and thick with it all.

He groans and mutters a pained  _ fuck. _

He’s panting and tired and even with nothing left, he craves it all again.

He’ll take his shower, put on the armor, and go into battle every day until they meet again.

Looking for the next moment that she’ll meet his eyes and tap her fingers to her knuckles.

Twice.

_ Yes. _

And he’ll shed it all to have her.

Ben Solo knows so many things, politically and otherwise, but he’s starting to lose his grip.

The only thing that’s clear at this point is that he’s addicted.

He’s only ever been addicted to one thing and it’s definitely Rey Niima.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, sharing, and commenting!! I'm enjoying your thirst for this story ❤️

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ❤️
> 
> Other works:[CrystalDen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalDen/works)
> 
> Twitter:[@the_crystalden](https://twitter.com/the_crystalden)


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